


in memoriam

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon character deaths, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Six (6) teenagers, one (1) murder clown, several (~) corpses, and a general air of "well, now what?" do not make promising prospects for a funeral.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous, Unofficial FFA Anon Collection





	in memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on FFA for the prompt "100 words of: terrible funerals"

It's about an hour in when you collectively realize you don't actually know what to do about the dead trolls.

"I mean, if we find 'em, we can just chuck 'em off the side, right?" offers Dave, who is admittedly more experienced than most in the art of body disposal. "They're already headless, and they got stolen by a fucking insane clown. Not like you can desecrate 'em much more."

"There may be resources to be gained by their preservation," Kanaya objects, and you can observe her elegant claws drumming a soft pattern on the side of her lipstick tube as she turns it over and over in her hands. She's a touch less composed in person, and somehow, you find this endearing.

Karkat, having finally recovered from the chance encounter of his face and John's metal bucket of farewell messages, scrunches his hair under his hands and groans. "We all know you've gone full _In Which A Small Town Midblood Seeking Her Final Stage Of Pre-Conscription Education Engages In Conflicting Romantic Entanglements Between A Coven of Rainbow Drinkers And A Pack Of Green Moon Cursed Howlbeast Shapeshifters Etc_ , Kanaya. You don't have to be fucking coy about it."

Kanaya sighs, visible chagrined. A short pause reigns.

"Is that fucking troll _Twilight_?", predictably, is how Dave breaks the silence.

Karkat draws in a protracted, painful breath before speaking. "Yes, clearly that's the most relevant fucking topic at hand here. Which of our works of trashy classical romantic literature are actually the same fucking thing, except for the part where they're not, because ours are naturally superior in both content and complexity."

"Rose," Dave says, amid his valiant efforts to flatten his smile, "he's insulting Twilight, you gonna take that?"

You raise an eyebrow with utmost precision and care. "I have taste, Dave."

"I still vote corpse party!" Aradia declares, completely ignoring all of you. "Is it true that humans usually carry ceremonial folding precipitation deflectors while the corpse is entombed, by the way? I couldn't tell if it was a ritual practice, or just for the weather."

You grimace, picturing a cat-sized mausoleum and a nauseating bundle of flowers in your weeping mother's arms. The bouquet bleeds red across checkerboard tiles. You shake your head, briskly, and pretend to see nothing.

"The weather, I'm afraid. Though, given the human propensity for depicting emotions through weather patterns, and common media convention of funeral scenes under heavy rain, I can imagine where the confusion would arise."

The troll with yellow down his shirt front -- Sollux -- speaks up from somewhere in the back, where he has been sitting beside Terezi, offering the occasional hesitant pats on the shoulder. She hasn't had the spunk of her internet self since you arrived. You have already filed away numerous elaborate plans to tease out why.

"Why the fuck are we assuming we're gonna get the corpses back from that guy, anyway? He's probably already fucking eating them or baking them into a pie or something."

"We don't need the corpses to hold a corpse party," Aradia points out. "We can make effigies! Or just encircle the absence of their mortal forms with colorful outlines!"

"... I have chalk, I guess," Terezi volunteers, though you doubt her heart (or whatever equivalent organ she possesses) is truly invested. "We could..."

She trails off, frowning. Karkat raises a hand, the first sound of a word in his throat, but he stops short before it comes out. His shoulders slip down with the corner of his mouth, unresolved in restraint. Another uncomfortable pause fills the void.

"I suppose we don't have many other uses for our time," Kanaya admits. "Perhaps such a project will keep our collective minds occupied during our impending era of boredom."

Aradia grins, very wide. Her teeth are blunter than any other troll's, but she should not be able to show so many of them at once. Her choice in lipstick colors does either nothing or everything to improve this.

"Dibs on the bark-pulp-and-adhesive-layer crafting materials!"

Before anyone else can question her, she takes off, leaving a trail of red stardust through the open stairwell door down from the rooftop.

"Paper-mache," Kanaya translates, noting your confusion.

"Paper-mache," Dave repeats, entirely toneless.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Would it be appropriate to leave offerings of pornography for the deceased to carry into the afterlife?"

Kanaya tilts her head, noncommittally. "Secular Alternian culture possesses -- or, possessed, I suppose -- no formal funerary traditions. I am sure it would be appreciated nonetheless."

Karkat makes a sound like a dying cat, which you choose to take as a sign of approval.

Dave puts his head in his hands. "This is going to be the worst fucking funeral anybody never asked for."


End file.
